


Thwarted

by travellinghopefully



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Femslash, Historical, Masturbation, Season 9, Smut, Sorry Not Sorry, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-23
Updated: 2015-09-23
Packaged: 2018-04-23 02:12:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4859204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/travellinghopefully/pseuds/travellinghopefully
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So, the Doctor decides it is a wonderful idea to take Clara to meet Jane Austen.</p>
<p>Obviously prompted by Clara telling her class that Jane Austen was a phenomenal kisser.</p>
<p>The Doctor is a very naughty man.</p>
<p>Considering adding other chapters - not with Jane Austen though....</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thwarted

**Author's Note:**

> As always, comments are adored - thank you
> 
> If you hate it, tell me, if you love it, tell me - if you really love it - share!
> 
> Factual Jane Austen information taken from Jane Austen – A Life by Claire Tomalin (apologies to Claire Tomalin - really, no offence.....I just needed to know how Jane felt about Bath and when she moved there)

He should have known better, he truly should. It wasn’t as if his motives had been entirely pure. Take Clara to see Jane Austen, perfect. In no way did he want to prove his point that she began writing Pride and Prejudice in 1796, no, he wasn’t remotely pedantic.

The Roman baths at Bath would be soothing, he should have just taken her to them in Roman times. When the TARDIS questioned him, he vehemently denied he was sulking, and he absolutely positively did not pout.

The words he was currently ascribing to Jane Austen were not appropriate for polite society, possibly not even for impolite society.

It had started so well. He had casually mentioned his plan and Clara had sprung towards him, throwing her arms around his neck, kissing his cheek.

Really, a very promising start.

Historically appropriate clothing was also successful. Clara called him dashing. The TARDIS may have called him a preening peacock. He ignored the TARDIS.

He did not allow his gaze to linger on the expanse of bosom that Clara’s dress exposed. He may have suggested a shawl, purely for the purposes of the weather, not for his own sanity. He didn’t contemplate the gauzy, filmy transparency of the fabric either.

An introduction between Clara and Miss Austen was facilitated at the Assembly Rooms – he didn’t remotely bristle when he found himself referred to as Clara’s uncle. Hmmmpff.

Clara and Jane connected immediately, chattering about the inappropriateness of many of the ladies dresses (he graciously accepted Clara’s thanks about the shawl). They watched a drunken wife chase her insensible husband and Jane pointed out a notorious adulteress.

Taking Clara immediately into her confidence, Jane shared her distress at leaving the life she loved in Steventon. Her inability to write, even questioning whether writing was an unbecoming pursuit for a lady. 

Between them, they rapidly agreed a programme of entertainments, quite neglecting the Doctor. An outing to Box Hill with a picnic was planned and of course they would take the waters at the baths. 

The most exciting event in Jane’s usual week was sewing shirts for her brothers. Her lack of writing even extended to her letters and she struggled to maintain the endless correspondence between herself and her far flung family. Endless news of brothers, sisters, nephews, nieces, and innumerable cousins was the lot of an unmarried daughter.

Jane confided to Clara that she had considered following in the footsteps of her Aunt Philadelphia and travelling to India to secure a husband there – but her father had absolutely forbade such an enterprise and her mother increasingly relied upon her.

Jane missed her friends, she missed her books, she missed the walks, she missed her life.

The Doctor found himself measuring the temperature of the water of all the baths, calculating their capacity, investigating some of the more exotic microbial life that flourished in the depths and bemoaning (in his head) that the ladies bathed in red, green or blue gowns – the possibilities of plain muslin clinging to Clara’s skin occupied his thoughts for some time.

The smell of the baths really was quite pungent, the nosegays the ladies floated in front of themselves only alleviating the smell in their immediate vicinity.   
Eventually the Doctor retreated to the TARDIS and sat in the library – he was not sulking. He was however bored. Boredom he might, if severely pushed, be forced to admit was at the foundation of many of the problems he faced.

Following Clara had seemed mostly innocent. He had sincerely convinced himself that he was merely ensuring she was safe. Bath might have introduced oil lamps to light the streets, but not everyone here was genteel. Yes, ensuring Clara’s safety was an entirely appropriate reason for following her, she couldn’t possibly chastise him for that, almost certainly. Probably.

It was on reflection quite late for a social call, but that didn’t immediately occur to him. He was surprised to see two ladies exciting the Austen house after 10 mins. Two ladies in coats and shawls, keeping to the shadows, but giggling. Two women he soon realised were Clara and Jane.

Jane was some years younger than Clara and although cosmopolitan for 19th century England she was hardly as prepared for the vagaries of existence as Clara might be. He should definitely keep following them. It was entirely proper, anything could happen to them.

He was astonished to find that they were breaking into one of the smaller baths that were spread throughout the town. There was one lit torch that cast faint illumination over the water and the rising vapours. 

He clambered after them, somehow not attracting their attention.

He really should have turned away then, returned over the wall, waited for them to safely escort them home at a discreet distance. He really should not have watched.  
But he stood there, rooted in the shadows, mesmerised.

The ladies quickly shed their bonnets, shawls and coats and boots. Continuing to giggle they helped each other to remove their dresses. 

The Doctor wondered that they couldn’t hear his breathing. A gentle breeze caused the light from the burning torch to shift, he was perilously close to being revealed in the shadows, he pressed back against the wall, reassured by its solidity behind him.

The light wasn’t quite enough to see every caress, but he watched as Clara pulled Jane into her arms. He watched as they softly kissed. Clara taking the lead, encouraging Jane, kissing her throat, praising her, touching her.

He really should leave. This was not his finest hour.

He nearly came undone as Clara unfastened Jane’s chemise and applied her lips to her exposed nipples. He closed his eyes and focused his attention on the delightful sounds they were both making.

His breeches had long since become uncomfortable and he allowed his hand to loosen them, but for now he staid his hand from touching himself.

A particularly loud gasp caused his eyes to fly open. 

Clara and Jane were in the water. His thoughts of wet muslin clinging to perfect skin were wholly realised. The faint red glow from the still burning light only enhanced the scene, giving a wonderful glow to the damp exposed flesh. They were kissing in earnest, hands twined in each other’s hair, caressing each other, drawing forth the most exquisite noises.

The Doctor abandoned thoughts of restraint, of propriety. He was absolutely certain that what he was doing was entirely wrong, but there was no where else he would rather be.

He closed his fingers around his throbbing shaft, rubbing his hand up and down with lazy, slow strokes. Just enough...for now.

Another gust of wind, but the shadows still concealed him.

Captivated by their increasing moans he allowed his other hand to gently cup and tease his balls as he increased the frequency of his strokes. He hissed as he swiped his thumb through the gathering arousal, drawing the slick fluid down his cock with the next stroke. He bit his lip hard to suppress the noises he was starting to make. He tried to control the movement of his hips, thrusting up to meet the movement of his hands. He was so close.

Barely able to keep his eyes open, he continued to watch the scene in front of him.

From the wordless cries from Jane, he judged her to have achieved her release. But his gaze was on Clara, focused on her eyes, her mouth, her full lips, the glimpse of her perfect breasts as the water swirled round her. As her head threw back in ecstasy, the Doctor found himself rendered similarly helpless. The wall behind him was the only reason he remained standing. His respiratory bypass the only reason he still had oxygen. Waiting for the blood to stop roaring in his ears, waiting for the aftershocks in his body to subside, he carefully re-dressed himself. 

There would be time enough to scramble back over the wall, time enough to watch Clara and Jane swim through the water. Illumined now by the rising moon. The moon highlighting their glorious pale flesh, their remaining garments discarded.

The moon.

The Doctor clambered and scrabbled and fell over the wall. Hoping Clara and Jane were far too engrossed in each other to have noticed his presence.

He waited in the dark, under the eaves of a close by inn. Waited till he saw them safely over the wall. Followed at a distance, saw them securely home. Sprinted like a man possessed to be back in the TARDIS in case Clara returned there. 

He didn’t raise an eyebrow, he didn’t ask any questions, he didn’t react at all when at a later date Clara saw fit to inform him that Jane Austen was a phenomenal kisser.

If the TARDIS had the ability to slap him, she would have.


End file.
